


Obvious

by the_communist_unicorn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But Dean's In Denial About That Too, But I Have Too Many WIPs As It Is, Castiel and Dean Winchester Falling in Love, Closeted Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester in Denial About Sexuality, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, May Be Expanded Eventually, Not my usual fluff, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Romance, Unresolved, one shot for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_communist_unicorn/pseuds/the_communist_unicorn
Summary: If there was one thing Dean was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure of, it was that he was not in love with Castiel Novak. Because a) Dean didn't fall in love. Ever. And b) Dean wasn't gay...Okay, he and Cas were fucking, yes, but that didn't change anything. Sex was sex. Who didn't like good sex? And with Cas the sex was always good. Better than good. Dean would challenge the straightest guy in the world to not get off from Cas' nimble fingers and talented tongue. So there was no need to have a fucking identity crisis over a few (dozen) orgasms.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 131





	Obvious

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Obvious](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/768927) by mcabby80. 



> I actually wrote this back in December 2019. (Was that really less than two years ago? It feels like another life.) It was inspired by a Downton Abbey fic by the lovely [mcabby80](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4489903/mcabby80) who generously gave me permission to publish my Destiel adaptation. I have plans to expand this into a multi-chapter story at some point and give it a more satisfying ending, but I don't know exactly when that will happen, so I decided to just post it as a one shot for now.
> 
> If you need spoilers not included in the tags before you're comfortable reading, come find me on Facebook (Koby Kuznetz) or Tumblr (the-communist-unicorn).

If there was one thing Dean Winchester was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure of, it was that he was not in love with Castiel Novak. Because a) Dean didn't fall in love. Ever. And b) Dean wasn't gay. 

Okay, they were fucking, yes, but that didn't mean anything. The way Dean saw it, being gay meant loving other men. Falling in love with them, and Dean (as has been said) had never fallen in love with anybody. Sex was sex. Who didn't like good sex? And with Cas the sex was _always_ good. Better than good. Dean would challenge the straightest guy in the world to not get off from Cas' nimble fingers and talented tongue. So yeah, there was no need to have a fucking identity crisis over a few (dozen) orgasms. 

And okay, so Dean had stopped dating, but he wasn't being _faithful_ to Cas or whatever. He just couldn't see the point of spending hard earned money on a fancy restaurant that didn't even have burgers on the menu, and enduring hours of boring conversation, all for the dubious reward of mediocre sex, barely more exciting than a night with his own hand. Why expend all that effort when he could just show up at Cas' door with pizza and a six pack? They'd watch crap TV and bitch about their jobs and their screwed up families like ordinary friends because that's what they _were_ , and when they got bored with that, Cas would climb into Dean's lap and kiss him like there was no tomorrow, or else go down on his knees and unceremoniously open Dean's pants. 

And yes, Dean _did_ reciprocate thank you very much. Because he wasn't a jerk. To his surprise the feeling of Cas' cock in his mouth, another man's come coating his tongue wasn't as disgusting as he'd expected. After a few more times he cautiously admitted to himself that he kind of liked the salty, slightly bitter taste. It reminded him of an ocean breeze. And the way Cas moaned and bucked and had to fight not to thrust down Dean's throat made Dean feel fucking powerful. 

Turned out he liked a number of things he never thought he would. The first time he let Cas inside him, he thought he would explode. He had never felt such unbearably intense pleasure before. Any initial pain was quickly forgotten as Cas slowly and methodically fucked him into blissful oblivion. That was when he realized there was no going back. He was helplessly addicted to sex with Cas, and no one else would ever make him feel this good. 

Sometimes, when he was riding Cas into the sagging old couch, both of them dripping sweat and panting for breath, strong hands on Dean's hips guiding him up and down on Cas' cock at just the right pace to make it last, Dean thought that there must be a better word for this than sex. Sex couldn't mean both this and the perfunctory, forgettable fucks he'd had with women. The two were too different. This perfect, effortless joining of bodies, this glorious feeling of owning another person and being owned by them in return — he'd never felt anything like it before in his life. 

But Dean wasn't stupid. He knew that sex — even amazing, mind blowing, earth moving sex — wasn't the same as love. And even if Dean sometimes (usually) stayed the whole night, that didn't mean they were a couple. It was just the February cold that made Dean reluctant to leave the comfort of Cas' bed after the fucking was over for the night. He could have fallen asleep just as easily without the other man's strong arms around him, and anyway they only cuddled because Cas' building was old and it was chilly in the winter. Just like they only showered together because Cas' hot water always ran out after like ten fucking minutes, so that was the only way they could both avoid an ice cold shower. 

"Might as well get your name tattooed on my ass," Dean once joked while they were lying in a post-coital stupor, their skin still slick with sweat and come but both of them too tired and comfortable to worry about cleaning up yet. "It's definitely yours after that." 

Cas didn't say anything, but he looked at Dean with such an intoxicating combination of warm affection and dark, possessive want that Dean couldn't not kiss him. 

Dean had known for a while that Cas was in love with him. It was there in every gentle touch, every hungry kiss, every time his name was moaned or whispered or screamed like "Dean" was the only word Cas knew. But Cas had never said it, and Dean was grateful for that. He couldn't lie, not about that, and he couldn't bear to see the hurt in Cas' eyes when Dean refused to say it back. Sometimes Dean wondered if Cas knew how obvious he was, but as long as Cas seemed content with their little arrangement, Dean wasn't going to be the one to bring it up and risk rocking the boat. 

And if he had a picture of Cas as the background on his phone (one where he'd taken Cas by surprise so he was frowning at the camera in that adorably confused way of his instead of putting on some fake smile), and if he looked at it whenever he was having a bad day and needed something to cheer him up, and if he thought of Cas at least a hundred times a day, wondered where he was and what he was doing…

Well, so what? There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation that did not involve the words "gay" or "love", and soon, any day now, Dean would figure out what it was. 


End file.
